


down to every last drop

by wincestgoddess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Date Night, Drunk Sam Winchester, Fluff, Implied Bottom Sam Winchester, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Sam and Dean deserve nice things, Smut, Soft Dean Winchester, Some angst, lovestruck Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29946672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wincestgoddess/pseuds/wincestgoddess
Summary: It's date night and Dean's got a little something planned.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 85





	down to every last drop

Sam was a cheap date. 

Some grub, some booze, some quality entertainment mainly in the form of binge-watching Game of Thrones and they were good to go. Truly, for all his fancy hair products and complaining about stains on motel walls, Sam was surprisingly low maintenance. 

Maybe it was because of the way they grew up. Maybe Sam was far too observant with those inquisitive bright eyes and he spotted the way Dean would falter for a fraction of a second when counting their money as he prepared to pay. Maybe he knew that when Dean claimed to be full, it was his way of saying they only had enough for one meal. 

Hunting doesn’t pay and Winchesters learned to be frugal. They’d had no other choice, really. Sam didn’t grow up with luxuries. They couldn’t afford them. But damn it if Dean didn’t always try. 

The last slice of pizza, brand new sneakers for the soccer team. He’d worked his ass off paying for those. Dean _always_ tried. And he never brought it up because that kind of stuff was dangerously close to emotional territory but some days he looked at Sam, looked at this grown up giant eating his salad happily because Dean bought organic produce especially for him and he hoped with a heavy heart that it had been enough for Sammy. 

He hoped he was enough for Sam.

So yeah, maybe Sam was actually chill when it came to date night. A couple of beers, hearty food for Dean, a salad for the lady and a nice movie. One with lots of explosions if they were in the mood to make out and not really pay attention to a plot, which was often the case. Or perhaps a good psychological thriller or drama if it piqued Sam’s interest. 

The nerd sometimes even wanted to watch French black and white films. Dean would’ve fallen asleep if only Sam’s lips weren’t so damn tempting and hypnotizing and they seemed to pull him in every time his brother mouthed along the lines. Did he speak it fluently? He always forgot to ask. For some reason, his brain derailed, thinking of other things Sam’s pink lips could be doing instead. 

Once in a blue moon though, Dean liked to take a drive down nostalgia lane. Instead of their comfy and worn spot on his bed in front of the TV, he’d tell Sam to get dressed and take his baby brother to a drive-in theater. He’d get snacks beforehand and watch Sam reach for the popcorn, his heart growing ten sizes bigger when his sunshine boy turned his head and directed that warm smile at him.

That same smile set off a spark low in his belly, igniting the fire Dean had come to associate with his brother at the tender age of nineteen. It was warm and soft, it was soothing. And it drastically changed too when Sam would reach over, eyes still focused on the movie, fingers expertly unzipping Dean’s jeans and slipped his hand inside.

One simple touch would stir the blaze, flames licking up his insides in the most delicious way, leaving nothing but desire in their wake. Only his gentle yet fiery boy could make something feel so safe and pure, equally awaken the hungry, the _dangerous_ side of it. 

Changing up their traditional date night was worth it. Dean would take the blinding smiles, he would take the fire over comfort and safety any day. Not that safety wasn’t good. Sam pulled off this duality quite nicely. 

There even had been a memorable trip to the museum one time and Sam, geek that he was, had gushed over every piece, recited artists’ biography like he’d _memorized_ them but Dean knew he hadn’t, he was just that damn smart. He even knew tidbits about the pieces and Dean had no hope of understanding this other language but man if he didn’t love just watching Sam be in his element. College boy, indeed.

Sam appreciated when Dean went the extra mile and he made sure to show him. Heh, college boy in the streets, freaky beast in the sheets. Like Dean said, the duality of man. 

But Sam was also easy to please. They both were. And not having to plan stuff beforehand was definitely comfortable for both of them. Maybe that’s why Dean liked going the extra mile sometimes, to make up for the lack of luxuries and normalcy Sam had experienced as a kid. To prove that surprises in their lives didn’t always have to be scary, nightmarish ones. 

Sometimes surprises were changing their usual grub for a home cooked meal. Sometimes it meant switching their beer for a bottle of red wine, the kind that he liked. Dean didn’t mind a good glass every now and then too so really it was no sacrifice on his part. 

Tonight was such a night, one full of surprises. That’s right, Dean strapped his big boy apron on and pulled out the big guns. From a young age he’d had to cook so the basics weren’t difficult. Of course the recipes here were more complex than mac and cheese. Good thing he’d experimented a bit, took advantage of his free time to immerse himself into the culinary world. He enjoyed it, it seemed, now that it wasn’t a chore but a choice. 

He didn’t go all fancy chump either because that wasn’t their style. No five course meal. He didn’t think it was Sam’s style either even if his brother did enjoy the finer things in life more than him. Still, he’d pulled off a good, hearty, delicious meal that was bound to make Sam’s mouth water and fill his belly and that was more than enough in Dean’s book. 

Dean _planned_ , okay? And man was it hard to hide it from Sam because it felt too much like lying and lying was a wound in their relationship that never truly healed, only scabbed. Dean had to remind himself that this wasn’t an earth-shattering secret, this wasn’t a douchebag angel possessing his brother, this was dinner. Dinner, music and wine. This would not break Sam’s heart but make it soar and Dean was nothing if not determined to get at least one sunshine smile out of him.

Only thing left to do was execute his master plan. 

* * *

“Alright. We picking up where we left off?”

“I was thinking we could skip Joffrey the dick tonight.”

“I hope you’re not in the mood for action cause dude, I can’t watch another Michael Bay movie. Two in a row is too much.”

“Actually--whoa, hey! Explosions are cool, Sam.”

“You would say that. You’ve got a boner for the grenade launcher.”

“Which you still haven’t let me use…”

Giving his brother a pointed look, Sam still couldn’t help but chuckle upon seeing the slight pout and quickly bent down to kiss it off, the towel he’d been using to dry his hair forgotten on Dean’s bed. He would’ve liked to keep teasing him about the obvious hard-on he had for the thing but damn it if Dean’s lips weren’t distracting when they puckered up like that. Sam was hardly at fault here. It was all on Dean. 

“So, what’re we doing tonight?”

“Huh?”

Dean blinked up dumbly, licked his lips and was barely able to hold back a whine of protest when Sam just laughed softly and moved his tantalizing mouth away. His baby brother was a cruel, cruel man and if Dean wasn’t such a giving lover he would _not_ put out tonight. Would serve Sam right, pulling such an inhuman move on him. 

“If we’re not watching Game of Thrones, what are we watching?”

“Right,” clearing his throat and rubbing his mouth gingerly, Sam’s taste lingering on his tingly lips, Dean grinned. 

“Get thy fine ass to the dining room and thou shall see, Sammy.”

“I should’ve never introduced you to Shakespeare.”

“I was trying to woo you and you totally killed the mood.”

“Your form of wooing is using archaic English?”

“Well, I _could_ just whip my dick out.”

“Gonna stop you right there. Let me get dressed and we’ll go to the dining room, Romeo.”

“Juliet’s got nothing on you, sweetheart.”

“You’re a dork.”

And still his antics won him a dimpled smile. Dean saw it as a win. The brief yet sweet peck Sam brushed against his lips wasn’t bad either. Almost good enough to make up for the little stunt he pulled earlier. It wasn’t that Dean couldn’t get enough of Sam’s lips that were soft as pillows, or the tongue that just barely swiped over his own with a flirty graze. Nope. Definitely not that. 

Dean faintly picked up on the rustling coming from Sam’s room and wiped his hands on his jeans. Huh, where did the sweat come from? Okay, all alone now with his thoughts he could perhaps admit to himself that he was a bit nervous. Just a bit. Which he shouldn’t be. He knew Sam, better than anyone else in the entire world. More importantly he’d sort of dated, been with the guy for over ten years and he knew Sam loved sappy romantic gestures. 

So, wining and dining? Textbook romance right there. Meaning Dean was guaranteed to get laid tonight and yeah that was fine but underneath the giddiness and the silly nerves there lay something deeper. Past failures and the overall weight of this life. Home-cooked meal? Sam deserved to dine in the best Michelin restaurants the world had to offer. And even then, they wouldn’t be enough for him. Sam deserved the _world_ itself. 

This is what Dean had to offer though. Home-cooked meals and Sam’s favorite wine. Bandages on scraped knees and chicken noodle soup when he was sick. Lullabies passed down from a beloved mother. Whispered reassurances after nightmares about Lucifer and the cage. Searing kisses and a possessive grip leaving behind bruises on Sam’s hips. This is what Dean was.

He guessed that if Sam loved him back when all he could offer were stolen kisses in the dark and apologies at night after their father had chewed him out and Dean stayed quiet, then Sam could love him now too. Now that they were free together. 

“You coming?”

Gentle like a breeze, Sam’s voice drew him back from his thoughts. Looking up slowly, Dean wiped his hands on his jeans once more, just to be sure and stood up. 

He purposely slowed his steps, falling naturally in line behind Sam and biting down on his lower lip nervously when his brother suddenly stopped as they reached the scene. The crime scene as Dean was calling it in his head. Well, if he hadn’t cleaned up it would’ve looked like one what with all the cooking.

“...What’s this?”

“Never seen dinner before in your life?”

“Dean.”

Exhaling a breath, and mustering up his confidence, the older brother stepped up in front of Sam and extended his arms, adding a little bit of flair to the presentation because fuck if it didn’t help with the nerves.

“Ta-da. This is...what we’re doing. I thought we haven’t had a nice, different date in a while so I figured I’d cook us something up. Get a bottle of that fancy red wine you like, none of that boxed shit you drank in college cause I know you did and we could just...it could be nice.”

By the end of his sentence, his forced confidence faltered a bit and he instinctively scratched the back of his neck, looking away for one second. Sam’s stunned silence did _not_ help matters. It was making Dean think he should’ve just bought that pie flavored lube and let that be the surprise. Fucking Joffrey. This was his fault because Sam had probably wanted to keep watching him suffer. 

“It is nice.”

Green met hazel. They studied Sam’s expression carefully. The words were genuine, not teasing and perhaps it was the low light of the bunker creating mirages right in front of Dean because surely Sam wasn’t blushing over the simple gesture?

“Why so surprised? I can be romantic.”

Light pink turned to an equally lovely light crimson, making the hunter look years younger while also managing to transport Dean back in time, back when his brother was a mostly unburdened teen. Back when things were sweeter and simpler. Dean cherished those times, but they were after all what had gotten them here. Perhaps things weren’t as simple, as sweet, but they were still good. Better. Clearer.

“It’s not that. It’s just...I mean, you did all this for me?”

And that right there, that vulnerable edge in Sam’s tone reminded Dean why he went the extra mile. Not only because Sam deserved more but because Sam also had a hard time _believing_ he deserved more and Dean was determined to mend that.

Hell, he was aware he was the poster child of self-esteem issues. With everything they’d both gone through, one could hardly blame them. But Sammy was different, okay? Dean had a dark pit inside, something so rotten and so wounded that he was sure people could sense it in him. Sam had a light inside. Despite the demon blood running through his veins, despite yellow eyes and the darkness Dean knew lived inside his brother too, there had _always_ been light.

Sam was pure at his core. He was the same baby brother who’d uttered a squeaky ‘De!’ as his first word and took his first steps toward a freckle-faced boy. Sam was the nervous toddler who’d slipped his hand in Dean’s the first day of school. The same stubborn teenager in love who’d kissed him first under a rain of fireworks. 

Sam was all that and more. Dean’s entire world. And Dean’s entire world had been beaten down, battered and bruised but never broken. Still shining, still beautiful. _That_ kind of person deserved the best, deserved more romantic gestures and deserved to come to expect them. 

“Only for you, Sammy.”

Dean tucked a rebellious strand of hair behind Sam’s ear, pleased with the almost shy smile he got in return and nodded toward the table where food was waiting for them.

“We got honey-glazed lamb chops, garlic roasted potatoes and I even whipped up one of those fancy salads you like so much.”

“We’re a long way from mac and cheese à la Dean now.”

“Please, that one’s still a classic.”

“Got me through most of my childhood. You ruined all the other mac and cheese for me by the way.”

“I just followed the box’s instructions, man.”

“No, you had a secret recipe. I know it.”

Laughing good-naturedly, Dean motioned for his brother to sit down and popped open the bottle of Pinot Noir. Handing him a glass, he took his rightful seat right across from him and took a second to simply watch; raising the glass to his lips but not yet drinking from it as he instead fixed his gaze on Sam’s throat as it bobbed while his brother drank almost greedily. 

“Wine ain’t going anywhere, Sammy.”

“Maybe I wanna get buzzed,” he teased, flashing killer dimples and a sultry gaze that would’ve brought a lesser man to his knees. That man was Dean. Fortunately, he was sitting down. For now.

“Before dinner?” Dean chided. “Save it for dessert, you lightweight.”

“I’m not a lightweight!”

“Sure you’re not, rosy cheeks.”

“Oh, shut up.”

The big brother part of Dean that would never go away felt immensely pleased at having won the argument, but he felt even more pleased when Sam took a bite of his culinary creation and hummed in bliss.

“Dude, this is good. You gotta lay off the burgers for a while and make more meals like these.”

“I’ll just be your personal chef. Anything else, your majesty?”

“I’ll pay you back in blowjobs.”

“As opposed to giving them away for free?”

“Keep it up, jackass. See if that happens tonight.”

Any remark Dean could’ve said was lost in Sam’s happy moan when he tried the salad and surely it couldn’t be that good? It was just leaves and vegetables. And for some reason seeing Sam’s approval still made Dean feel fuzzy and warm inside. Must’ve been the sip of wine he’d had beforehand. 

In the end, Dean really shouldn’t have worried. Sam loved the food. Loved the playlist Dean chose for them to listen during dinner (yes, he really did that. Yes, he felt cheesy as fuck. Yes, Sam’s teasing was worth it after seeing his epic rendition of Night Moves). Loved the fact Dean planned this for them and seeing the genuine gratitude, the naked _adoration_ in Sam’s eyes, knowing his own mirrored the exact same took his breath away. 

No comfort zone tonight. It still turned out to be a perfect evening.

* * *

“You’re drunk.”

“Pfft, I’m tipsy”

“You’ve almost finished the entire bottle on your own.”

“I like red wine.”

“I know.”

Dean had, at one point earlier, dropped the pretense that he was able to stay away from Sam’s body and had scooted his chair closer, settling right next to his brother instead of facing him. Made it easier to tug him into a kiss whenever he wanted to, which was happening more often tonight.

It wasn’t his fault though; Sam was being a damn tease. More than usual. Since they mostly stuck to beer, Dean had forgotten the effect wine seemed to have on his brother. Which was, making him a total cockslut. One that liked to tip his own wine glass and make Dean drink from it, jostling it purposely and giggling as some of the liquid spilled down his throat.

The last straw was when Sam pushed their empty plates aside and leaned forward to _lick_ down Dean’s jaw, adding a tiny bit of teeth just the way he knew Dean liked and moaned at the taste. 

“You’re definitely drunk.”

“Maybe I’m just horny, you consider that?”

“If you’re so horny, can we skip dessert and go to my room?”

Actually giggling, Sam cupped Dean’s cheeks and if the previous teasing hadn’t been enough to have him rock hard in his pants, the image his baby brother painted definitely did the trick. The rosy cheeks were already killing him slowly but the glassy eyes, the pink tongue poking out, the entire _flush_ taking up Sam’s face and the two top buttons of his shirt he’d undone. He’d felt warm, he said. Only now Dean had a perfect view of his tattoo poking out and god he just wanted to lick, nip and mark till Sam was a writhing mess.

“But there’s music here, De.”

“Baby, I can play you music in my room, c’mon.”

“Mhm, no space to dance there.”

“What, you feeling in the mood for a lap dance or something?”

Dean regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. He regretted them even more when Sam got that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes and bit down on his bottom lip, looking for all intents and purposes like the cat who’d caught the mouse. 

It was only the hand of destiny torturing Dean when the next song on his playlist was ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’ and when Sam stood up and grabbed Dean’s chair, turning it around to face him, he was sure for a moment he’d die and gone to Heaven. Or Hell. Honestly he wasn’t sure because his brain wasn’t online at the moment.

“You really doing this?”

“Don’t you want me to?”

Shiny lips formed into a bratty pout as skilled hands popped open two more buttons of his shirt. The red wine had darkened Sam’s lips and Dean didn’t fail to notice how they now more closely matched his nipples. Sam’s chest however was a whole other tale, a flushed hue that resembled a rosé instead. 

Dean wanted to drink him down to the very last drop.

“Should’ve taken the bottle away when you started drinking straight from it.”

“Now, Dean, that wouldn’t be any fun” 

Fully disregarding the shirt now and tossing it down onto the floor, Sam straddled his brother’s lap, his own hips sensually moving along with Def Leppard’s vocals, following the beat as best as he could in his current slightly inebriated state. Not doing such a bad job if Dean’s enthrallment and shifting in his seat were any indication.

“Sammy,”

One word, one whispered breath was one familiar prayer falling from big brother’s lips, dripping easily and making its way smoothly into Sam’s system, smoother than the wine and the food and the music. This was reverence. This was pleading and Sam held Dean’s salvation in his hands. 

Just a few mere inches to close the space, to put an end to the teasing.

Smirking, Sam swung one long leg over Dean’s body instead, maneuvering so he wasn’t facing him anymore, straddling him backward instead and dancing -- though now it had evolved into grinding territory -- against Dean’s front, Sam’s warm and muscled back pressed to Dean’s firm front.

“I’m getting you back for this eventually, you know that, right?”

Maybe it was only the warm breath against his ear that elicited a shiver from the younger man, or perhaps a combination of all three at the same time: the whisper, the hands settling on his hips, the tiny but unmistakable jerk of Dean’s hips against his ass. 

“I’m counting on it.” 

Growling, Dean tuned out Joe Elliott’s voice. All five senses were now solely attuned to Sam. His warmth, the smell of his flowery shampoo, the lust-blown eyes, the taste of his sweat when Dean ducked his head and licked a stripe over that spot on the back of his neck that had his brother’s breath hitching. 

“You wanna act like a slut, you’re getting fucked like a slut.” 

A shameless moan made its way from Sam’s lips, dance-lap forgotten as at the moment he was more interested in the hands roaming up his abdomen, pinching perky nipples on their way, tearing a whine from his throat in the process. Def Leppard wasn’t as important as the insistent poking in his ass and the legs that prevented him from getting off now, essentially trapping him in Dean’s lap.

“Dean, please.”

Humming, Dean gripped Sam’s chin with one hand and turned his head, ghosting his lips over his. 

“This is your own fault, Sammy. Been teasing me all night long. Didn’t even need the wine as an excuse, you’re just that desperate for my cock, aren’t you?”

And he was right, even now just hearing Dean talk and feeling him rock hard, slowly, teasingly grinding against him was enough to have him submitting completely, have him beg and whine for his big brother to get inside him. 

“Dean…”

Sam leaned his head back, resting it into the crook of Dean’s neck and letting his eyes flutter shut when he felt skilled fingers working his jeans open. His hips canted up desperately and a chuckle was blown into his ear.

“And here I thought I was the needy one.”

Sam would’ve snarked back. Really, he would’ve. Except that his brother chose exactly that moment to pull his dick out and thumb over the slit, let the pre-cum slick his way as he wrapped a calloused hand around the shaft, stroked down and back upward agonizingly slow. 

It was almost embarrassing the fact that with Sam’s actions earlier coupled with the little lap-dance stunt, both men were close already. They didn’t need much. They didn’t need anything else than skin on skin touch, than one hand on Sam’s cock and the other back at one nipple, pinching and tugging. He didn’t need anything else but Dean’s lips back on the back of his neck or his teeth biting on his ear. 

Dean didn’t need them to be completely naked. Not now when he’d been close to popping a boner from watching Sam’s rosy cheeks half an hour ago. Sam turned him into a teenager all over again sometimes. He only needed the delicious friction as he grinded against Sam’s ass; he only needed the sweet sounds falling from red wine lips. A shaky gasp, a whine, Dean’s name stuttered through a moan. Fuck---fuck.

Muffling his choked groan into Sam’s shoulder where he bit into it, Dean’s hips convulsed on their own accord as he came in his pants. He barely registered Sam was shaking in his arms as well and that his hand was now covered in sticky white ropes. 

“...You should get drunk on wine more often.”

Laughing softly and slightly out of breath, Sam turned his head where it was still resting in the crook of Dean’s neck and pressed a slow kiss to his chin, waiting until the man locked eyes with him to let a sultry smirk unfurl.

“Take me to your room, Romeo.” 


End file.
